Two Nations
by yugiohmaniac
Summary: After the protected days as a child, and before the iron will of the adult, Atem was sent on a diplomatic mission to speak with the Hittite people. But is there more to his father allowing his young heir to travel alone? Rated M for potential violence in later chapters. Chapter 2: Atem faces an ancient form of hazing, as he finds some Hittites despise his presence at court!
1. Chapter 1

**OK, so I figured since my name is 'Yugiohmaniac', I should probably write an actual Yu-Gi-Oh! Story (since I went into an FF7 phase for a while…) Anyhoo, this idea was kicking around in my mind for a while so I figured I should put it down so it can stop bugging me ;) Anyway, updates might not be too frequent what with the other things I'm up to at the minute (lame attempt not to reveal my age is lame), but I want to finish this one out, since I'm expecting it will be multi-chaptered. Basic synopsis is that between the last flashback we see of Atem as a child, and Atem as an adult was a series of events that served as the final formative influence for his character (in other words, that iron is formed in fire). Hopefully some other Millennium World characters will show up later on, but for now Atem will be mostly interacting with OCs from the Hittite clan. Currently rated M to be side, but initial chapters shouldn't be too violent. Reviews and constructive criticism welcome! **

_Two Nations _Chapter 1 – The Emissary

Anthony pushed his way onto the merchant ship, pushing his way through the thick hoards of sailors and past various bounty. The deck was crowded – Anthony growled under his breath as he realised a good few were stowaways. The rest were slaves, and he assumed that some were gifts to the king since they had more than enough slaves to row. He caught sight of a small slave, surely only nine or ten, sandwiched between two others. He kept his head down, but it was clear he wasn't strong enough to pull his weight.

Anthony quickly turned away and pushed towards the back of the boat. The sailors glanced at him from the corners of their eye and silently made way. He sighed, and settled against a stack of barrels. As the boat rocked gently with each stroke, he allowed his eyes to shut as he raised a hand to his temples and rubbed at his tense veins...

'Excuse me?'

He twitched, looking around. A slight figure hidden by a plain robe was standing next to him. He gestured to the barrels behind him. 'Would you mind? I'd like to keep out of the way of the deckhands.'

Anthony moved out of the way without a second word as the small boy lifted himself onto one of the barrels, pulling his legs up. Anthony stared out at the sunset, but the itch in his skin told him the boy was watching. 'Thank you,' he said softly.

Anthony merely shrugged, but the boy didn't remove his gaze. 'Are you bound for Hattusa?' He leant forward, examining Anthony's armour and cape. 'I believe that... you wear the imperial uniform. Could I ask – do you answer direct to the king himself?'

Anthony looked down, getting a glimpse of the boy for the first time. His skin was dark under his hood, but his other features were obscured by it. The boy ducked his head slightly. Anthony looked up and away. 'I swore not to speak of my duties to anyone.'

'...All right.' The boy's voice was soft. It sounded as though he was smiling. Anthony bit down on his tongue, and turned further towards the sunset. 'I understand.' They sat in silence for a while. The boy sat upright the entire time. His hands barely peered out of the ends of the robe, but they remained folded in his lap. As the minutes passed, and he no longer felt the boy's persistent gaze, Anthony's shoulders began to relax. Until suddenly the boy spoke.

'You could learn a secret, and never speak of it again.' His tone was hard, disguising his obvious youth. Anthony turned his head to find the boy had been quietly watching him. Only now his head was raised, and Anthony couldn't hide the confused frown from his expression. The boy's eyes were violet – almost red, even – and his lashes seemed unnaturally dark, giving him a strange look of constant, sharp focus. And worse, he was scrutinising Anthony with little to no mind of Anthony's reaction. The boy looked away first, almost smiling. 'I'd bet money on it,' he said softly.

Anthony said nothing for the rest of the trip.

When the ship moved into port it was dusk. The boy slid from the barrels, but as he moved his robe parted, and Anthony caught a glimpse of a white bandage tied around one leg before the heavy fabric fell back into place. The boy seemed to notice him looking, and glanced up as though about to say something, but Anthony quickly turned his back, pretending to straighten up the cargo behind them. When he turned back, the boy did not try to speak again. Rather, he kept his head down as he moved, slipping between the bustling soldiers like a shadow.

Anthony's eyes followed him to a group of Roman officials standing up the dockside, who appeared to be chastising him, as the boy held up his hands as though asking for calm. He bowed to them, and the group moved off. Anthony watched for a while, then looked away, scowling.

Anthony pushed his way off the ship ahead of the crowds, and did not look back. He headed through the narrow streets, avoiding the dirt caking the ground as much as possible, and hurried toward the palace. The centurions standing guard bowed in acknowledgement as he passed. He absently reciprocated, never once slowing his pace even as he greeted others in the halls.

Finally he came to the great double doors of the inner sanctum. He closed his fist over his heart and bowed to the guards there. 'I, Anthony of Athens, have returned from my diplomatic mission. I requested an audience with the king.' They nodded, unbarring the door.

'Welcome, sir. The king is expecting you.'

The king was within, seated on the throne with his daughter sitting on the floor by his side, involved in a hushed conversation. The king spotted Anthony and raised a hand, cutting off the girl. He raised his voice, pulling himself back into an upright posture.

'Now, Aelius.' His voice was clear, but he couldn't repress a fond smile. 'I hope you will consider it further. In the meantime, perhaps your sister needs some help with her studies.' The girl stood, straightening her dress and hairpiece, and curtsied in an exaggerated manner.

'Yes, Father. I was just getting to that.' She turned, quickly winking at Anthony. 'Hello, Anthony. We've not seen you for some days. What kept you?'

'Aelius...' Her father warned.

She looked down at her hands. 'What I meant to say was, it gladdens me to see you again. I'm off to go help my poor sister at her books.'

'_Aelius...'_

'G'bye, Father.' She curtsied again. 'Anthony.'

'Good day, Princess,' Anthony said, but she was already halfway out the room. They both paused, before exchanging a glance. The king laughed wryly.

'I should be lucky to make her a match before the year is done.' The man cleared his throat, before straightening up and gripping the rests of the throne. 'So? What news from Carchemish?'

'A few peasant tribes gathering, but few are armed and less are trained.'

'Hm.' He waved a hand. 'As expected. Were you able to meet with anyone?'

'A few self-appointed leaders.' He shrugged. 'They had no awareness of one another, though.'

'Of course, of course.' The king sounded almost jovial. 'It sounds as though you have it all in hand.' He stood, turning away. Anthony shifted his weight, pronouncedly clearing his throat.

'My Sun, can I ask-'

At that moment, there was a rap at the door. The king sighed.

'Enter.'

One of the guards stood by the double doors, bowing. He spoke whilst genuflecting. 'My lord, your servant has found the Egyptian emissary. May I allow them in?'

'If you wish to, you may.' The king laughed. 'How else will I speak with my neighbours?'

The servant's gaze danced between the king and Anthony. He nodded once and quickly vanished from the room. The king sighed again.

'So how fairs Egypt?' He asked as his vizier came in, followed by a small, robed figure. Anthony couldn't repress a groan as the king glanced around. '...Is the emissary not with you, Sira?'

'My sun, this is...'

'I am he,' said a familiar voice. The boy raised his head, those same violet eyes meeting the king's, before he gave a deep, graceful bow. 'The Pharaoh sends his warm regards.'

'And a _child _to speak with us.' Anthony crossed in front of the king, drawing his sword. 'Your Pharaoh insults us! Get out of his majesty's sight!'

'_My Pharaoh_ would never,' the boy bit out. All his muscles had tensed, but his expression was tightly controlled. He tried to catch the king's eye. 'My king, I assure you that I have been trained intensively-'

'Your king sends his regards.' The king waved a hand, giving a wide grin. 'But does he send his respect?'

'I-' The emissary frowned, his eyes flickering upward. 'Forgive me. I...' His eyes flickered to Sira.

'Go ahead,' the vizier nodded. The boy nodded, his hands raising slowly to his hood. Then he lowered it with a flick of his hand.

For a second, Anthony didn't know what he was looking at. A series of soft spikes radiated out from the boy's head, giving the illusion of a star, as the colour possessed an odd gradient from black to red. Stranger still, his bangs were blond, some stretching back, appearing to point skyward.

'...My goodness.' The king raised an eyebrow. 'Is that the fashion these days?'

The emissary looked down. If he was blushing, his dark skin hid it well. The vizier moved close to the king, murmured something under his breath. The king frowned, openly staring at the boy. He remembered himself after a moment.

Anthony turned to face the king, cutting off the boy. 'My lord, you cannot entertain this... this affront.' Behind him, the boy shifted his weight. He raised his head to speak, instead settled for folding his hands and standing in silence. Anthony sheathed his sword, and turned to take the boy by the arm. The boy was staring up at him, no longer able to keep the youthful disappointment from his eyes. Anthony's hand froze in mid-air. The king cleared his throat.

'That will do, Anthony.' He gestured for the man away. Anthony stepped to the side, avoided the boy's searching look. The king stepped forward and the boy bowed again. 'Look at me, young man.'

The boy lifted his head, raising his gaze to squarely meet the king's. They watched each other for a long moment, the youth's expression almost impassive. The king's voice was low. 'Your king is aware that I could take this as impertinence?'

'Yes.'

'Emissaries have been punished for less.'

'Yes.'

'The Pharaoh must have faith in you.'

The boy's clasped hands twitched. 'Yes.'

'My palace is not a training ground.'

'I know.'

For a long moment, no-one made a sound. Then a huge smile cracked over the king's face. He reached out, patted the boy on the shoulder, and indicated for Anthony to follow. The boy looked searchingly at Sira. The vizier turned to go.

'The guests' quarters are on the west side,' he said. Anthony quickly headed for the door.

'It seems odd to see you again.' The boys' tone was low. 'Forgive me. I've not introduced myself. My name is...' Anthony kept walking until he was at the door, but the boy's voice still carried. '...Yami.'

Anthony gritted his teeth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, here's chapter 2! There's a couple of sort of references to the series in this bit, so try and spot them? Anyway, Atem/Yami is meant to be quite young in this fic, but I won't say how old since it will lose its shock value ;) Reviews are always welcome! I know a lot of these characters are my own, but some of the ones from Millennium World will show up eventually (think I mentioned that already…) Anyhoo, enjoy if you please! **

_Two Nations _Chapter 2 – The Hazing

Yami found his way to a small, communal room at the back for the servants. Some were younger than him, and all were soundly asleep. He turned away, moving to the slit of a window, and slowly undid his cloak. A small red lizard unfurled from where it had been hidden in his cloak. It flapped its wings and came to eye level with him. He gently curled his fingers around a claw.

'Forgive me, Osiris. I think it's best if... you stay hidden as much as possible. At least while we're here.'

The dragon hung its head for a moment, then gave a human-like nod. It resumed its place around Yami's neck when he opened his arms, and he carefully lowered himself onto the floor at the opposite side of the room, curling up to go to sleep.

A series of whispers woke him the next morning. He jerked awake, quickly sitting up. A circle of servant children parted, turning their backs to whisper and giggle to one another. Yami glanced up, noting his hood had fallen. He swept his bangs back into place and stood, inclining his head in a greeting.

'How... do you do? My name is Yami. I was sent as the emissary from Khe- Egypt.' He met each pair of enquiring eyes. 'It's a pleasure to meet you all.'

The servant glanced among themselves, giggling again. Without a word, they each turned to leave. One of the smaller ones reached out to try and grab his hair before a taller boy seized her wrist and pulled her away.

'Birdie!' she squealed. Yami straightened out his clothes and went to freshen up, his expression never changing.

After finding the washroom for the servants, Yami went to find Sira the vizier. He was by the corridor immediately before the throne room, talking to a girl with an embroidered dress. Yami paused, but Sira looked up and gestured him to come over.

'Good morning, emissary.' He smiled as Yami bowed in greeting. 'Did you sleep well?'

'Yes, thank you. And you?'

'Fine, fine. Listen, I should introduce you – Yami, this is the Princess Aelius. Princess, this is Yami, the emissary from Egypt.'

Yami made a deep bow. 'It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess. The Pharaoh Akhenamkhanen sends his most favourable regards.' He glanced up, surprised to see her returning the gesture with a deep curtsey. Her eyes were glittering, her expression almost curious.

'So the court sent you?' she asked.

'Yes.'

'Hmm.' She caught a playful smile behind her fingertips. 'Did you introduce yourself to the servants?'

'Yes. This morning.'

She wrinkled her nose. 'Well, there's a downside to everything.' She toyed with the hem of her dress by her collarbone, grinning at him. Yami glanced at Sira for guidance, but he was smiling wryly, and said nothing. 'Are you familiar with the Pharaoh's court?'

'I've met them. They're... all the best at what they do.'

'What they do? You mean... sorcery?'

Sira sighed. 'Princess, is this really an appropriate topic?'

'I'm just curious.' She hadn't moved her gaze from Yami, and he was finding that she was much, much harder to read than her father.

'Yes, they all possess magic, Princess.'

'Do you?'

'Yes. A little.'

'May I see?'

Yami was about to look to Sira for guidance, but a harsh voice cut through the conversation.

'Sorcey is forbidden on Hitite soil.' Anthony was stood behind him, 'I trust you were made aware of this, emissary?' Yami nodded. The dragon Osiris, hidden under the top folds of his cloak, curled a bit closer around his neck.

'Yes, sir Anthony. Do not fret. I can...defend myself.'

'Be less trouble to run, at your size.' Anthony muttered the remark without thought, and even though Yami gave no expression, he looked angry for a moment, as though he hadn't meant to speak. Then he sighed and turned to the Princess. 'Princess, I believe Sira and the emissary should be discussing business before court begins.'

'Such a diplomat, Anthony.' She just laughed and pushed her hair back. 'My father would just say, 'Daughter of mine, get thee to thy lessons.' ' She turned to go, raised her hand in a mockery of a royal wave. 'See you again, Yami. Perhaps you can show me some magic later.'

'Princess-'

But by then she had turned and disappeared down the hall. Sira chuckled wryly. 'If you have the energy for it, you could meet her younger sister.'

'She's young?'

'Five years old. She talks just like her sister, but she struggles with writing.'

Anthony cleared his throat. 'Sira...'

'Yes, right.' He turned to Yami. 'So while you're here, the King will want to show you new developments around Hattusa, trade routes... and for you to report back to the Pharaoh, of course.'

Yami nodded. 'Of course. Absolutely.'

'Your grasp of languages needs to be strong. We have a great number of local tribes in our area.'

Yami nodded. 'I'll...do my best.' He risked a glance at Anthony. 'I promise.' Anthony pushed past without another word, nodding to the guards as they let him in to the throne room. Sira offered Yami an apologetic smile, and gestured for him to follow.

The rest of the day went relatively normally – Sira showed him around various places in Hattusa, pointing out recent building projects, markets and trades with local villages. Yami was unsure of Sira's real feelings – their need to impress was clear as day, but their intentions toward Egypt were not as easy to pin down. He spent so much of his time listening intently that Sira would ask his thoughts on something from time to time.

Everything went more or less as he had been prepared for, until that evening. Sira had shown him where to get food from the market, and he ate alone in the servants' quarters. He was just about to recover the papyrus he had hidden in the bed frame to write the first report home when shadows appeared across the floor.

He glanced up to see several men in army regalia standing in the doorway. They nudged one another, one glancing pointedly at his hair at his hair and snickering.

' Can I...help you with something?' Yami stood, bowing again. That only seemed to make their smiles wider.

'You're the one from Egypt?'

'Yes.'

'Good, good.' He beckoned to him, as his friends tried to contain their smiles. 'Come with us. We have a welcome for you.'

Yami studied each of them in turn, then nodded and moved to follow. He stayed out of arm's reach of the men as they walked through the corridors. Osiris curled around his neck, gently nipping his skin with its second set of teeth. 'It's all right,' he whispered to him, as softly as possible. The soldiers didn't notice. They were too busy talking about some other soldier who had humiliated himself in the bar the other night.

Yami glanced around as they walked, but they seemed to be taking some strange, backwards route through corridors and across courtyards, so there was no-one around.

Suddenly the soldiers stopped. They had come to the back of the palace, where the elaborate stone floor disappeared into a plain dirt track. A wide ring had been drawn in it, and a goliath of a man was stood in the middle, sword in hand. He turned to the soldiers for guidance. The one who had spoken first grinned widely at the giant in the circle, gestured not too subtly to Yami's hair.

'Told you it was wild.'

The giant nodded, but his face remained impassive. He moved his focus to Yami, pointed the sword square at his chest. Despite the noticeable cold of the night, the fire of the nearby braziers was enough to make Yami sweat under his clothes.

'Fight me, emissary.' His low voice came out almost like a growl.

'I... Pardon me?'

The grinning soldier gestured at his compatriots. They passed him something which he tossed at Yami – a small wooden practice sword. 'I heard you were trained. Why don't you show us what our neighbours' style is nowadays?'

'I...' Two soldiers were hovering behind him, much too close for comfort. He knew there was only those two, but they were several times heavier than him and much taller. 'Very well.'

As he stepped into the ring, a noticeable swell of snickers and mutters overcame the crowd. As far as Yami could see, most of them were soldiers. Most had a leering, tense grin on their faces. Yami had seen that expression before – he had once seen it on a cat while it bounced the dying body of a mouse between its paws.

Yami swallowed, hard. Osiris had curled tighter around his neck and shoulder, giving him anxious nips with its teeth.

_Trust me, _he thought to her.

Her voice wavered. _I think they mean to kill you. _

He settled into his battle stance, gripping the practice sword in both hands. _Even as an 'emissary', surely they know that would only increase tensions with-_

The huge brute lunged for him, making a straight thrust but his footwork was odd and Yami saw that it was a feint a second before the soldier changed his weight, moving the strike effortlessly into a slash. Yami just managed to dodge backward, parrying the blow with his sword. Time slowed as he took a deep breath, sharpening his senses and he saw the man's next strike as well as if he'd had the Millennium Tauk to do so, and simply stepped out of the way.

_Read his body language. _Yami anticipated another feint. _Economise your movement. _He made the slightest adjustment to his position, moving alongside the strike and wrong-footing the larger man. By the time the man had recovered, Yami had already moved out of his reach.

The crowd's excitement had changed to growls and yells. Yami heard the voice of the grinning man loud and clear over the din.

'Is that all you've got? Fight back.'

Yami gritted his teeth as another strike swiped by his ear. The giant was loosing patient too – his strikes were losing focus, but increasing in volume. Yami studied him, desperate to pick out a weakness.

_He's heavier than you, _Osiris was fidgeting in her hiding place. _You can't beat him! Let me scare him off. _

Yami threw himself into a roll, tried to deliver a blow to the man's elbow to numb his limbs. The man shook it off like Yami had merely tapped him. Yami's breath caught, and he backed off again. _No magic, _he thought back to her. _I can't let you..._Anthony's words from that morning were suddenly running through his head. _'Be less trouble to run, at your size' … _

Yami paused near the edge of the circle, bitterly gritting his teeth. The giant seemed to want a breather too.

'Strike me, mouse,' he growled. 'Is Egypt as soft as you?'

'Egypt is strong.' Yami raised his head. 'Egypt is unified.'

But the giant had stopped listening. A sudden, cruel glint had come into his eye – and just as Yami realised where he was looking, one of the soldiers kicked him sharply in the back from behind.

He cried out, and was sent sprawling into the sand, managing to keep his head up long enough to see the man's next strike – it was wide, as though he was only aiming to pierce Yami's arm.

_They mean to humiliate you first! _Osiris' cry into his mind was sharp, designed to shock, and he recovered his focus enough in that last split second to throw himself to the side. The sword caught his cloak, severing the clasp so it fell open, exposing his tunic and worse, the bandage he had been wearing around his knee.

'No-' Yami gasped out, flinging himself back onto his feet. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder at the other soldiers. They were keeping out of the ring, but their faces were wolfish. Apart from the grinning man,it was impossible to pick out any one voice. Osiris bit him sharply and he snapped his head back to the ginat – he was already coming, swinging down with all his strength and Yami threw up his arms in a block, but this time the soldier had read his move and his leg darted up in a kick, connecting squarely with his bandaged knee.

Yami suppressed a grunt of pain, refusing to take his eyes off the giant as the man moved for a killing stroke. Completely lacking in any other choice, Yami darted forward, ducking under the man's arm. He turned quickly, raising his guard again, but the giant was stumbling, thrown off balance. Because Yami was small, he had made his stroke more precise – but when Yami moved...

He felt Osiris tighten its hold around his neck as she felt the direction of his thoughts. _Are you...? _

_Trust me, _he returned.

A few disapproving murmurs were running through the crowd now – even they thought that last move was underhand, and he could see by some of their faces that this was going farther than they had expected. But he blocked their expressions from his mind, acknowledging them as peripheral objects only. He rearranged his stance, and waited for the giant to charge him again.

And charge he did – wildly, and with little focus. But Yami moved onto his strike, sliding sideways at the last minute so that he had wrapped his hand around the blade while pushing his back against the man. As expected, the man's momentum carried him forward, and Yami moved to trip him whilst grabbing his tunic with the other hand, throwing him over his shoulder and disarming him in one move.

The man hit the ground with a heavy grunt. Yami backed up, then stopped dead when he noticed the sound.

Silence.

He darted his eyes around the crowd, keeping most of his attention on the behemoth laying sprawled before him, but he realised he didn't need to. Most of them wore exactly the same expression.

They were slack jawed. So much so that they parted for him when he moved to a nearby fountain. He dropped both swords in, and returned to the centre of the ring. He circled around to the front of the man. By now the giant had pushed up into a sitting position. He didn't look hurt, though he was absently rubbing his chin. Yami offered him his hand.

Now the silence had form – if strained muscles and a collectively held breath could be considered as one. The giant looked at him for a few moments.

Then a voice broke the moment. His tone was refined. Sounded like trouble.

'What in the name of the Gods is going on here?'

Yami tensed up. He should have known.

Anthony.


End file.
